this world will remember us
by lefiner
Summary: ...so let's raise a little hell. Bonnie and Clyde AU. e/é.
1. Picture Show

The economy is slowly but surely failing.

The bright lights will soon die.

Enjolras is stuck in a dying world.

As he hurries to serve the rowdy bar goers, he wonders bitterly what good his law degree has gone towards. He had a dream at some point of being a successful politician who would keep the world in the roaring twenties. However, he watches hopelessly as the current politician does nothing about the failing stocks and allows the country to slip.

And he is stuck behind an illegal bar. He hates participating in something illegal, knowing that if anyone were to find out that he worked in a speakeasy, he would fail in Washington DC.

It takes too long for the last of the patrons to leave, and Enjolras hurriedly cleans up before hopping to his car (he is one of the lucky ones to have one). It is a relatively short ride to his lonely house. His mother is there, but not really. Her eyes are empty as she sits in the empty bed. His father is off in jail, unless he is already out and decided not to return. The Enjolras name is not a clean one.

His car begins to stutter on an empty country road. He curses at the engine and shakes the wheel as if it will do him any good. Disappointment sinks in his heart as the car finally rolls to a stop. He gets out of the car and throws the hood open, only to be hit with a spurt of smoke. Enjolras coughs and steps away.

"Car troubles?" A voice asks from the dark. He squints and manages to just barely make out the figure of a woman stepping towards him. Her voice is raspy and seductively deep. Even though most of her is overtaken by a huge coat, Enjolras can make out the shape of a hip and the curve of a breast. He gulps.

"A little bit," He confesses. "Who are you?"

Her voice is wicked as she says, "I'm Éponine. And who are you, beautiful?"

He reels back at being called 'beautiful', but manages to retain his composure enough to answer, "Enjolras. Gabriel Enjolras."

"Your last name has a nice sound to it… A certain je ne sais quoi," the girl steps into the dimness made from Enjolras's fading headlights and the moon. "Have you ever thought about being famous?"

He holds back his pleased smile. "Sometimes, but doesn't everyone?"

"True, true." Éponine takes a cigar out of her pocket and leans towards him. "Gotta light, pretty boy?"

Enjolras reaches into his shabby pocket and hands off the match box. The girl dances away from him and sticks the cigar between her chapped lips. "You know," she speaks past the obstacle, "It's polite for a gentleman to light a lady's cigar," she snatches the matches. "It's a good thing for you that I ain't a lady."

"Every woman is a lady," Enjolras says. She rolls her eyes.

"Sure. Whatever you say. So, Enjolras, what dreams of fame have you dreamt?" She asks it conversationally, and for a moment the image of the White House flashes before Enjolras's eyes. Something about her prying irks him and he snatches back the box.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't have to matter, but why shouldn't it?" She shoots back. "I'll tell you, I want little girls to look up to me one day—"

"That's cute."

"—the way little boys look up to Billy the Kid and Clyde Barrow."

"Aren't they criminals?" Enjolras points out. Éponine shrugs, the lit butt of the cigar seeming to float between them.

"And?"

"Why would you want to be like them? And wouldn't Bonnie Parker be more to your taste?"

"Look, the girl's just out with her boyfriend. She hasn't pulled any crimes," Éponine releases a plume of smoke into Enjolras's face. "Not yet, anyway. She won't be remembered, I promise you. Whereas _I _will."

"Will you?"

"Yes. I deserve to live the highlife after what I've been through," she looks him up and down, her dark eyes glinting with stars held there. "And you know what? I could see you coming with me."

"Can you?"

"Yes," she steps close to him. The cigar falls from her mouth and into shattered embers in the grass. Enjolras can smell tobacco on her breath. "I can see you dressed all fine in Manhattan silk," her hand runs up his chest and he shivers at her touch. "With a house on the bay and plenty of women at your feet, but only one in your bed."

"That's a nice dream, but if the economy keeps going down, no one's going to live that."

Éponine ignores him. "You know, you're awfully pretty. Or I guess guys like to be called 'handsome', don't they? Your face is nice enough to be on the silver screen, or, no…" Éponine looks up at him with a smile on her face. She is reading his mind, and for whatever reason, Enjolras finds it irresistible. "On the front page of the newspaper after you've been voted into office."

"Can you really?" Enjolras tries to be cold and calculating, but he cannot help but be flattered by this girl's opinion of him. "It'd be nice to steer this country back to success, wouldn't it?"

"People like you and I are wasted in this shit hole." Éponine smirks up at him. "We're too good, no one deserves to live and die in Kansas, but you and I, we deserve it even less."

"Really, now?" Enjolras nearly taunts.

"Yeah. We oughtta hop on this car of yours and drive straight to the east. Keep going 'till we hit water," Éponine appraises his car.

"If it'll ever start," Enjolras kicks the tire. Éponine darts around him and opens the lid, just like he had right before he met her. This time, the smoke is considerably lesser. She frowns at his engine and sticks her hands right in. The long sleeves of her trench coat are rolled up to her elbows and she messes with the wires and battery.

"There! Try it now!" She says. Enjolras, doubting her, walks around to the driver's side and hops in. To his surprise, Éponine jumps into the passenger's. He frowns at her.

"What? I need a ride into town." She pouts flirtily and Enjolras figures that there is no harm in it. She's just a girl who hardly looks older than eighteen. What harm can she do?

He turns the keys and the engine thankfully roars to life. In shock, he turns to thank Éponine, only for her eyes to widen. She curses and jumps into his backseat, throwing herself to the car floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. She just stares up at him with wide eyes. Then Enjolras is aware of the sound of another car coming down the lonely road. There is a siren that begins to play as soon as the other car spots him.

"Shit, Éponine, are they looking for you?"

"Maybe," she whispers.

"What do I do?"

"I don't know! Just please, I don't want to go back to jail."

"_Back?_"

"Excuse me sir!" Someone yells from the cop car. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" Enjolras shouts back. "Just had a little car trouble, but the old girl's running again."

"That's good. Say," the car rolls closer, and Enjolras can hear Éponine hunkering closer to floor as the headlights approach them. "You haven't seen a girl, have you?"

"I've seen plenty of girls," Enjolras says logically.

"A politician's answer," Éponine mumbles from the car.

"Be quiet," he tells her through clenched teeth and then says louder, "Any specific girl?"

"Yes. Éponine Thernardier. She recently escaped from the Juvenile hall. She's a small slip of a thing with dark hair and a deep voice." The man says. Enjolras shrugs.

"Can't say I've seen her," Enjolras tells them. They nod.

"Well, you have a nice night, sir. I hope you find your way back alright."

"Me too, officer." Enjolras tells them. In another response, he sends the car driving past them. Once the other car is far enough away, he slams down the brakes.

"Ow!" Éponine's voice is indignant. Enjolras looks back to see her sat upright on the backseat, rubbing her neck where the backlash must have sent it shooting against the headrest.

"What the hell?"

"What are you talking about?" Éponine asks innocently.

"Why are they looking for you? What did you do?"

"I may have stolen a few things," she shrugs. "What does it matter?"

"You mean you're _actually _a criminal?"

"Hardly," she snorts. "I don't think petty theft labels me a criminal."

"No, just a kleptomaniac. What all did you steal?"

Here she looks down at her hands. "A child," she mumbles.

"What?" Enjolras practically shouts. "You kidnapped a child?"

"It was my brother, and he's only like six years younger than I am. My parents saw the opportunity to get rid of me and they took it." Éponine shrugs. "It's not a big deal."

"But… I just helped a criminal," Realizing what this means, Enjolras reels back. "Shit. If anyone finds out, I'll never be a politician… I'll never go to DC… _Shit!"_

"Oh, calm down." Éponine's voice is practically in his ear. "You just helped a girl who woulda wandered the country in the dark. You didn't have to know that I escaped from juvenile hall… And nor does anyone else."

Enjolras turns his head, only for his lips to meet Éponine's. Shocked, he takes a few seconds to respond eagerly to her kiss. They pull away messily.

"I like to reward those who help me," she smirks and kisses him again. Her hand, coated with car grease, tangles in his shirt and pulls him into the backseat with her.


	2. This World Will Remember Me

Surprised, Enjolras allows himself to tumble over the seats and into the back of his car. The leather is cool against the exposed skin on his arms, and it presses against him as his lips devour hers. Éponine tugs him as close to her as two can be. He can feel every curve and swell of her lithe body held flush against him. Her lips are some kind of drug, as his hands move of his own accord to slide under the cloth of her dress, he feels lightheaded. Her teeth bite lightly on his bottom lip and she rips open his shirt. Enjolras is no longer sober.

He is drunk on her.

Éponine pulls away with what he wants to believe is reluctance. He feels the loss of her warmth harshly but takes advantage of the frozen moment to observe.

Her lips are swollen. Enjolras can see the shape of her crooked teeth just past the curve of her chapped lips. Her dress is crooked and her hair splayed around her head as she lies on the seat. His hand is curved around the thin cloth of her brassier. Another of his hands is still fiddling with the tops of her stockings. Her hands are placed firmly against his bare chest.

"Let's get to the city first. Do you have a house?"

"Yeah. My mom shouldn't be home 'till early morning," Enjolras reluctantly removes his hands from her body. She adjusts her dress and removes another stick from her pocket, this time a cigarette. Éponine smartly grabs the match box from his pocket and flicks a flame to the end of her cigarette. Once she inhales smoke, she looks at him with amusement.

"You still live with your mother?" she teases. Enjolras grumbles a nonsensical response as he climbs over the seats, cursing the tent in his pants that makes every move uncomfortable. Éponine follows close behind, plopping into the passenger seat with a satisfied sigh.

"Well, it should be about ten minutes if we go top speed," Enjolras comments, turning the car on. His eyes are fixed on the rural road that lights up when his headlights burst to life. He is so focused on starting the car that he doesn't see Éponine's sneaky hand as it moves its way to his lap.

When he feels her bony hand pressing into his thigh, he just grits his teeth and ignores it, moving the car along. However, when she undoes his pants—

"What are you doing?" He yelps, trying to shake off her hand. She keeps it there.

"It was selfish of me not to think of you," there is a smirk in her voice as her hand grasps his member. "I know it's painful when it goes untreated."

"Miss," Enjolras feels the strain as he fights the feelings that shoot to where she is touching. He is lightheaded, "I am _driving_."

"Yes, I see that," her voice is sarcastic. "I used to give my old partner road head all the time, then he had to go fall in love or something."

"Road head, you mean—"

"Yes," she nips at his ear, which causes his hands to jerk on the wheel, sending the old car swerving. "This is less distracting."

_Jesus Christ, help me, _Enjolras thinks as her hand moves up and down and the road blurs before his eyes. _This girl is going to be my death one day. _

~_one thing, young lady, I guarantee_~

Éponine smiles into his shoulder. The rough skin of her lips contrasts the smooth span of his skin. They lay on his couch, basking in the bubbling afterglow of sex. Her hair is tangled and long and ratty, and Enjolras can still feel how wonderful it was when he yanked it as she moaned. His hair is matted to his forehead, and one of her hands is twisting a golden curl around her finger.

"So you want to be a politician, is it?"

"Someday," Enjolras turns to her with a crooked smile. "I also have a law degree, if that doesn't work out I may settle for a lawyer."

Her voice is gentle as she asks, "How is it that with all these dreams, you're still just a speakeasy bus boy?"

"Careful," he manages a thin laugh. "Don't discredit me, I'm a bartender."

"Still. Big dreams for a small town boy," Éponine sits away from him, stretching. Enjolras can just barely make out the sloping shapes of her small breasts in the dark.

"Same goes for you, Miss Most Wanted," Enjolras shoots at her. She just chuckles and goes about picking her clothing off the ground.

"Am I _your_ Most Wanted?"

"If you want to be," He means for it to sound teasing, but his voice is gravelly and serious. Enjolras's heart is in his throat. He genuinely doesn't know why she has grasped him so tightly, and he wonders what different path his life will now take that it wouldn't have if he had just turned her into the police or left work a little earlier.

Éponine swoops through the shadows to kiss him.

"I've got to go," she laughs against his lips. "Stop asking for kisses!"

"But I'm not—" he is interrupted by her kiss again. Her wicked scent of tobacco and sex taunts him.

"I've got to meet up with my partner and his wife; it's where I'm staying tonight," she flicks him to get his hand off its place on her thigh.

Enjolras frowns against his will. He has just met this girl, and yet he feels something that feels a bit like sickness brewing in the pit of his stomach. "Your… partner? As in the one you—"

"Yes, but don't turn green now. He's all happy and monogamous. We escaped together—he broke me out once he got out of the real place."

"How do you know he won't turn you in?"

"'Cause then he'd have to turn _himself_ in, obviously," Éponine rolls her eyes.

"But… I read somewhere that if you turn someone else in then you get t—"

"Look, he's in jail and I'm at Juvenile Hall. Which one would you rather get back behind bars?" Éponine's quick tongue lashes him to silence and he watches as she fumbles to cover her skin against the shadows. _Maybe _she_ should be the politician. _

"What's his name?" Enjolras asks.

"Marius. Marius Pontmercy."

~_this world will remember me~_

Marius catches sight of the light shining through the window and smiles. It has been two long years since he last saw Cosette's beautiful smile and felt her soft skin. He has longed for her and he'll be damned if he doesn't get her soon. He parted from Éponine and told her to waste her time and do whatever she wanted so long as she didn't come with him for a while… He wants—no, he _needs_—Cosette to himself.

He bangs on the door, waiting with bated breath. He hears soft, delicate footsteps just behind the door as they approach. His chest tightens—surely she will be happy to see him, right?

The door opens, spilling light into Marius's prison-ruined eyes. There she stands like an angel at the gates of heaven, her red hair set alight and her skin just as smooth as he remembers. Her blue eyes are wide and blue as they gaze up at him. Maybe the light is not coming from behind her after all, rather from within her…

"Marius?"

"Cosette!" he exclaims, rushing into her arms. However, she steps back with those eyes no longer innocent. She has turned from a kitten to a cat. Those eyes that never held a glare are now narrowed at Marius.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you. I escaped!"

"Obviously! You should be in jail."

He flinches at her accusatory words. Hurt, he asks, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

Her face softens and she steps just close enough to lay a dainty hand on his dirty arm. "Of course I am," she murmurs. "But, you've got to trust God. God made the jury give you your sentence, and only God can help you to remove that sentence. You've got to ask the good Lord to forgive. You haven't finished your penance yet," Cosette straightens up. Her face is hard again. The gold cross on her neck swings into her cleavage. "Marius, you're going back to jail."

"Wait, what?"

**This is going to be a multi-chapter fic! I'll have to check how long exactly, but I plan for there to be one chapter for every song on the Bonnie and Clyde soundtrack. The songs won't match up with the story, but…**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	3. You're Going Back to Jail

Éponine knocks simply on the door. It's the knock that the three of them agreed on back when Marius and Éponine first started doing jobs. He told it to his girlfriend (now wife), and it's all the more effective for it. The door opens to reveal the face of Éponine's childhood nemesis, who is now one of her few friends on the outside. Éponine beams.

"Hello, Cosette,"

"Éponine… So you're out too?" Cosette's tone is disapproving; however she steps aside to let the younger girl in.

"How are you and Marius holding up?" Éponine asks.

"We're doing well," now Cosette smiles, her delicate cheeks aglow with youthful blush. "He'll soon be appraised in the eyes of the Lord."

"Uh, okay?" Éponine steps aside to wave at Marius, who sits comfortably on Cosette's old sofa. His smile is tired as he waves back. Éponine calls over, "Did you get a nice welcome home present?" she waggles her eyebrows. Cosette rolls her eyes and leaves in a huff.

Marius blushes but nods. "I see you did as well," he indicates the hickey that's well past development on Éponine's neck. She pulls her hair away so he can get a better look at it.

"I found someone last night, Marius. He's awful dreamy… And he don't seem to mind that I'm, well, _me_," she can't help but gush. "Speaking of, I invited him over. He should be here soon."

"You invited _who_ over?" Cosette comes back into the room. There are two cups of coffee held in her hands. The aroma warms Éponine's core. Cosette places the cups front of Marius and Éponine. Before taking a swig of the warm drink, Marius pokes Éponine.

"'Ponine's got herself a boyfriend," Marius teases. Éponine knocks his hand away.

"He's not my _boyfriend_, he's just my… male acquaintance who happened to ravage me last night," Éponine mutters into her drink. Cosette giggles.

"Well, you're a big girl now with big girl feelings," she says, easing a stale cookie into Éponine's hand. She takes it without complaint. "Does he have a job?"

"Yes, he's a bartender." Éponine feels like a puffed up bird while she brags about Enjolras, but she can't help it. He's something to be proud of.

Cosette, however, frowns and tsks. "Illegal. Of course. At least he's got work, not many men have that nowadays."

"He's also handsome beyond belief," Éponine continues. "He could be a movie star! Oh, Cosette, you oughtta see him. He's a regular Casanova, only prettier."

"Is he now?" Cosette actually sounds intrigued, looking at Éponine with respect. Éponine's smugness increases.

A knock breaks their conversation when it sounds on the front door. "Oh!" Éponine exclaims, shooting out of her chair. "That should be him."

Cosette stops Eponine with a hand on the younger girl's arm. "What if it's the police?" she worries. "I should answer it, just in case."

"Oh, alright. I guess you'll see what I'm talking about, then," Éponine sits heavily beside Marius again, grabbing her coffee cup and chugging the contents. It burns her tongue a little bit, but in a friendly manner like the way the sun starts to simmer on your skin after a long enough time outdoors.

Sure enough, Enjolras's musical voice sounds from the foyer. Éponine tries to hide her reprising blush from Marius, but the boy who is clueless in most other things is too perceptive to others.

"My God!" he whispers. "You're head-over-heels."

"Shut your trap," Éponine snaps.

"Éponine!" Cosette's airy voice precedes their entrance into the room. "There's someone here to see you."

Enjolras steps into the living room, his hat held in his hands and a clean shirt on. His curls are wild about his head, quite nearly like a halo. Éponine steps close to him, feeling dizzy. It's been so long—too long—since a boy has had this effect on her.

"Enjolras," she quite nearly whispers.

"Éponine," he responds. "It's nice to see you again."

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, trying to keep it innocent for Cosette's sake. She has to force herself to pull away from him. She seizes his hand and squeezes it, turning to face her friends.

"Cosette, Marius, this is Enjolras. I helped him with his car last night," she says. Enjolras raises his hand in hello. Cosette's eyes seem to pick up the bruise on Éponine's neck for the first time that night.

"Amongst other things, I see," she scolds. Éponine moves her hair to cover it, feeling self conscious. Enjolras leans down. She shivers when she can feel his breath on the skin of her ear.

"I'll put it somewhere else next time," he whispers. The air suddenly has no oxygen and Éponine has to physically force her lungs to accept the air that they need.

"Well, it's a shame that you two only get two nights," Cosette sighs prettily and goes about collecting the mugs and cookie crumbs, humming all the way.

"I'm sorry, what?" Éponine asks. Her hand tightens around Enjolras's.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Cosette says casually. "You and Marius are turning yourselves in after mass tomorrow."

"Says who?" Éponine snaps.

"Says me," Cosette is unfazed. "You don't have to do it, 'Ponine, but may the Lord forgive you if you try to enter his kingdom."

"I'll be damned if I go back," Éponine is nearly yelling. "They'll send me to the big house this time around. I know what the guards do to the girls there!"

"Well, if you're good maybe they won't touch you," Cosette's holier-than-thou attitude strikes something within Éponine.

"I don't think that's how it works!" She cries out. Éponine moves her grasp from Enjolras's hand to his wrist and storms away. He goes willingly, and only once they're in his car does she break down. She buries her face in her hands, but there is no noise.

"I thought you said you could trust them," Enjolras accuses. Éponine tears her hands away and Enjolras sees that her eyes are bloodshot; she thought she could trust them too.

"Let's just go," her voice is thick. "Anywhere you wanna. Just drive." Her eyes dart away from his to stare out the window towards Cosette's house. He waits for her to say something else, but she doesn't, so he does all that he can do.

Enjolras obeys.

~_we can't spend our whole lives hidin'~_

Enjolras finally parks in a clearing off a side road. He leaves the headlights on to illuminate the inside of the car and send light over the eerie sight of the dark farmland.

"So," he starts. His voice is cutting in the silence. "What's your favorite color?"

Éponine laughs out loud. It is sudden and amusing, and her laughs seem to overtake her completely.

"What?"

"Nothing, just… I think we're a little past this point," she pants out between barks of laughter. Enjolras feels a smile pushing the corner of his own lips.

"It's never too late to get to know someone," he tells her. Éponine breathes deeply and manages to calm herself. However, as soon as she looks back over to him she begins to laugh again.

"Why do you always look so serious?" she teases. Her hand pokes at his cheek. Enjolras peels her finger off of him. "Black," Éponine's voice is still bubbling with laughter. "My favorite color is black."

"Mine's red."

"Where're you from?" Éponine asks the next question.

"Here," Enjolras indicates the waves of wheat that surround them. "Wichita. What about you?"

"Topeka, originally." Éponine says. "But as you know, Marius and I got out of there and got arrested in Wichita, which is why we're now stuck here."

"You don't have to be here forever," he tells her.

Éponine snorts. "No one who's born in Kansas ever gets out."

"When I leave for the east coast," Enjolras says slowly. "I want to take you with me." He doesn't look her in the eye, terrified of her reaction.

Éponine seems to brew over it for a while. She asks quietly, "Why is that?"

"Because I like you," it is a simple confession that means the world to Éponine. It is one thing to be lusted after; it is another to be genuinely liked. She seizes either side of his face and presses a kiss to his lips. She hopes that it's a sufficient answer.

"I'll come with you," she says anyway. "Anywhere you go. All the way to DC."

"Good," he kisses her again, this time sliding an arm around her waist to pull her into the driver's seat with him. Once she is comfortably straddling him, he pulls himself away, "I've got to have you now,"

"Glad to know we're on the same page," Éponine smirks, and, before either of them know it, they're drowning in the waves of each other yet again.

* * *

**I'm hardly getting any reviews :( please drop something by!**


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